Fabulous, As Usual

I was born and bred a cynic, but I’ve been hanging with the up-with-people crowd for a number of years now. You know the ones. They have great big smiles and wear clothing that declares themselves optimists in love with love. They engage in daily affirmations, and believe that most arguments can be resolved with a hug. I was raised in what I thought of as the “real world” to think these happy folks were aliens from another land (most likely California).

That called for a visit.

The truth is I got in the door on fake credentials, because my standard answer to the formality of “how are you” is “fabulous, as usual.” I had been looking for a snappy answer since I heard George Carlin profess to be “moderately neato;” it’s merely coincidence I didn’t wind up stealing Steven Wright’s answer “medium”, which surely would have unearthed me as (at best) a realist. I am, of course, feeling conspicuous here in the Optimists’ Oasis. But once you’re inside, most people are far too hopeful about your potential to ask you to leave.

People – especially delightful ones – rub off on me, as they do most people. Before you know it everything is “excellent” and “fantastic”. I swear less and say “I love you” more. I’ve never been much of a high-fiver, but I get a ton more hugs than I used to. I’ve taken to telling people what it is I like about them, and to saying “Yay!” in conversation without irony. There might have been some skipping. Things are out of control.

Worse, once immersed in the cult of Shiny Happy People, you’re unfit for the rest of society. I visited my parents for a few days between packing up life in New York and moving to (shiny, happy) Colorado and was shocked to realize how much of our habitual conversation falls under the category of “bitching and moaning.” Somehow, I’m losing my taste for it. These days I spend my emotional energy finding the best in people and putting aside all but the most offensive wrongs. Folks in these parts find me refreshingly up-tempo. When did I become such a pansy? Have I strayed so far from my fellow Ironics as to have traded sarcasm for earnestness?

Defensive, I hasten to shore up my reputation as a hard-eyed misanthrope. Do years spent in deep depression qualify? Shall I ply you with Dorothy Parker and Fran Lebowitz? I have references available – friends and family who will tell you I don’t really like people. I am a first class grudge-holder, with a history of culled friends to show for it. Perhaps if I just return to making trenchant remarks or hating myself out loud…

Not only am I a pessimist by brain chemistry, I’m part of Generation X, who inherited the lemons of negativity from Baby Boomers and made nihilism our lemonade. We grew up in an era where no institution was respected, much less sacred, so we ignored them. Children in the ‘70s watched adults sledgehammer the corroded walls of 1950s establishment and came of age amid the rubble. Existing rules and laws were for suckers, and we were too busy surviving post-disillusionment to be institution-builders ourselves.

As if that wasn’t enough, I was groomed at private academies, boarding school and an ivy-league college to be a hole-poker – trained in dissection, analysis and criticism. I evaluate things by their difference from some Platonic ideal. Does this result in unrelenting negativity? Sure thing! On the other hand, having counted every molecule that’s missing, I can assert with confidence that the glass is 96.2% full. See, now, how it just seems negative? We’re nearly there!

I’m not the only poser in The Land of Peace and Love, I’ve realized. I found another one (during a routine but thorough study of Bravo TV’s primetime programming) on The Real Housewives of New York City. Cast member Kelly says she lives purposely with rose-colored glasses on (and does cartwheels!); indeed she seems both shiny and happy. But faced with the disdain of her cast mates, she finally gives in and tells them off. I sympathize, Kelly. It’s not easy to maintain a sunny disposition around the negativity crowd; we revert to form and join right in the title fight. Perhaps a move to LA-LA land is in order.

So we’re not all experts. Some of us are just beginners, and gratitude and forgiveness are seeds you plant in patience and water with practice. I like that about this community, and I might as well. Whenever I find something I truly hate about someone else, it turns out I’m guilty of the same crime. (This enables a vicarious self-loathing – my superego’s guilty pleasure.)

As time goes on, I’m feeling more at home with these fine folks, and I think I might stay awhile. I’m working on fixing those things in myself – the ones I dislike in others. In the meantime, can’t we all just try to find them charming?

That would be fabulous.